The Day Sherlock Holmes Kissed Me
by TheLonelyBlonde
Summary: the day that led up to the kiss. fluff! don't like, dont read.
1. Pillow Fight

This afternoon, Sherlock Holmes and I kissed. I consider it the best day of my life. But then again, the morning leading up to it was quite interesting...

**Saturday, November 11, 2012 **

**8:00 AM**

"John! John! John!" John Watson pulls his covers over his head defensively. _Isn't it enough that he keeps body parts in his fridge, keeps me up all night, and plays that bloody violin at all hours? _

"What, Sherlock!? What do you want!?" John raises his voice.

"Bored." Sherlock's look is blasé and indifferent.

"BORED! YOU WOKE ME UP TO TELL ME YOU WERE BORED!?" John pulls himself out of bed, squinting at the sun. "I WANTED TO SLEEP IN TODAY!" And, without warning, Sherlock gets a pillow to the face.

"Oh, John. Don't you think we're a bit too old fo-" John hits him again, and glares at him, eyes filled with rage. He sprints toward Sherlock and tackles him onto the bed, with as much force as he can. He hits him repeatedly in the face with a blue-and-white striped pillow.

"Oh, two can play at that game!" Sherlock squirms out of John's hold and snatches another pillow. He swings viciously at John, who ducks and turns around to hit Sherlock in the stomach. The tall man doesn't seem fazed, and proceeds to jump onto John, knocking down the man six inches his junior. He has him in a particularly uncomfortable position in which he cannot move.

"You think I've never had a pillow fight before," Sherlock boasts, smirking rudely. "Just ask Mycroft. I beat him _every time_."

Suddenly the door swings open to reveal Mrs. Hudson, smiling and holding a plate of cookies.

"Boys, I'm not your housekeeper, but I thought you might like some-" When she sees John and Sherlock on the floor, she freezes, puts the plate on the coffee table, and leaves abruptly. The two men get up onto their feet like lightning and run after Mrs. Hudson.

John speaks first. "Mrs. Hudson, it's not like that!"  
"See, fully clothed and everything!" John and Sherlock know their case is true, but not convincing. They look back to the room: feathers float everywhere, the sheets flung across the room, their hair mussed. The worst thing is Sherlock's robe is slumped on the table, along with John's shirt, which he never wears to bed. Mrs. Hudson doesn't look very convinced, but nods.

"Oh, good, I thought..."

"That wasn't it, Mrs. Hudson, we promise," Sherlock assures.

As she walks away, Sherlock looks to John, who turns a suspicious shade of crimson and turns away. He walks slowly to the kitchen and begins to make tea.

"Make me a cup, will you?" Sherlock feels...what is it? _Guilt. _Guilt for bothering John so much.

"Sure." In a couple minutes John hands him a warm cup of Earl Grey.

"Thank you." Sherlock looks up at him thoughtfully, but again John won't make eye contact. _What did I do? Why won't he talk to me? _Sherlock searches his mind for something he could 've done to John, other than being a horrible flatmate. _Well, the whole situation this morning was awkward. But I was bored! What else could I have done! And I didn't start that pillow fight..._The result hits Sherlock like a lightning bolt. _Does John Watson _like _me? _For a few moments, Sherlock doubts himself, but realizes it is true. When Sherlock had tackled him, his eyes were dilated and his face turned red. Not to mention the other sign... _But how will I respond? _


	2. I Take That as a Yes

**Same day, 12:00 PM**

The rest of the morning sort of breezed by. At 9:30, Sherlock got a call from Lestrade, who begged for him to come and investigate a murder. John told him they should go, but Sherlock had already solved the case in his head. At 9:45, John popped in an old Doctor Who episode, one with the Tenth Doctor and Martha. Ten was Sherlock's favorite doctor because he was clever, but John took to Nine because of his passion (and love of bananas). Sherlock would occasionally make comments like "Martha looks so bad in that outfit" or "I already know what's going to happen!" In the middle of the episode, John said, "I'm going to the store. Do you need anything?" His voice was blunt and indirect.

"John, please don't go. Er - I mean, don't you want to finish the episode?"

"Sherlock, I really need to pick up some things from the st-"  
"No, you don't. Your jacket is back in the bedroom and your wallet is on the dining room table, showing low incentive of leaving. If you really needed something you would have gotten your things together, and brushed your hair and teeth, I know that you always do those things before you appear in public because you hope to pick up women," Sherlock's voice is borderline angry. "You do this in order to hide your feelings. You were mad when I woke you up this morning, but you certainly didn't seem to mind when I tackled you. Your face was flushed, your pupils dilated, and I could tell you weren't angry, you were embarrassed. I could feel your pulse accelerate, John. It's silly you try to hide these things from me." Dumbfounded and clearly upset, John yells,

"Sherlock Holmes, do you know what your problem is? You don't care at all about other people's feelings. You don't care about anyone, and clearly you don't care about ME! You hate Molly, you hate Mycroft- he is your brother, Sherlock!- you just say the most awful things! You could have, oh, I don't know, _nicely _told me like a _normal person _that you knew I loved you, or just- just not do that! That thing! It makes me feel dumber than anything, Sherlock! Even if I am, I don't want to feel dumb! I just want you to love me!"

"So, you do love me?" Sherlock asks for clarification. All he gets in return is the sound of angry stomps as John stalks off to his bedroom.


	3. Good Kisser

**Wow, it took me way to upload this. Sorry about the wait, I'm a huge procrastinator! Enjoy the fluff :3  
**

**Same day, 1 PM**

Sherlock can't take it anymore. He runs to John's room as fast as he can, hoping he hasn't lost his greatest friend (and possible lover). As he approaches the door, he does not hear loud sobs like he thought he would, but instead silence. Cold dead silence. He turns the knob on the door with apprehension. John is laying in a crumpled heap on his bed, wrapped up in a white sheet. Tears are on his face but he makes no noise. His eyes focus dully at the wall. Sherlock pulls of his shoes, coat and scarf and hops on to the bed, placing a long arm around John's waist. Sherlock can feel his warmth and the slight pudge of his stomach.

"Sherlock," John says, voice quivering. "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

"Why, John, I'm spooning you, isn't that what you want?" Sherlock's baritone voice is rich and humorous. John hesitates, his breathing his rough and shallow.

"I-I guess. I just didn't know...that you liked me back."

"Oh, John, you silly hedgehog you."

"What?!"  
"Er, nothing. What I mean is, how could I _not _like you?"

"I don't know, I mean, you could be straight," John turns so Sherlock is an inch from his. Sherlock's breath smells of tea and biscuits. John begins to feel the heat rushing to his face, he can't bear to look into the striking eyes of the handsome man laying in his bed.

"Well, I guess I'm not then," Sherlock says through a giggle. "Shouldn't we kiss now?"

"Uh..." John stammers. Sherlock flops himself over the doctor's body and presses his nose to John's. His lips press deeply into the smaller man's lips and for a moment, John and Sherlock are not two people- they are one. Sherlock pulls back, laughing. John's eyes are wide, insanely wide, and he's grinning like a madman.

"Do it again Sherlock," John's voice is imperative and this time, Sherlock swings his arms on either side of John's body and his lips press into John's so deeply that the blogger crashes into the pillow, breathing heavily.

"Bloody hell," John says. "You _are _a good kisser."

**Remember, reviews are love!**


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